


Precipitate

by Phrenotobe



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/F, Growing Up, Post-Canon, Thunderstorms, Timeskips, fefemslashweek2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrenotobe/pseuds/Phrenotobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry," Sakura says, "I didn't hear you properly."<br/>The curve of her cheek is red, the blush from shame, rather than shyness. Elise puts down her cup and sits up straight. She doesn't know why it happens – maybe she talks too fast, or Sakura's brilliant brain is thinking of something else while she speaks about sewing and dresses and theatre performances, but she can certainly do her best to fix it. Her feet kick up under the empty space beneath her seat, toetips only barely touching the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The closest edges of Nohr are prone to rain, and the borderlands seem perpetually damp, but Elise and Sakura continue to talk through the drizzle. Every month, they meet as always, under a pretty awning in some little place near the border, under or over it. Sakura's tea is clear, and Elise takes hers muddied, with milk and sugar.  
Their reasons for being in the same place at the same time centre around diplomacy, as is usual; being the youngest of their crop of royalty means a lighter guard and greater ease of travel. Their elder siblings each have their own matters to attend to.  
At first, it had been awkward. Elise had talked too much and Sakura not at all. But spending just one day a month with each other had turned them into acquaintances, and then from acquaintances on to friends.

Sakura is a year older than Elise, greeting each year before she can reach. Fourteen at the end of the war, her fingers delicate with archer's callouses and finely-tended nails, transparent like kitten claws.  
She looks away. Elise isn't offended at all; Staring isn't done in Hoshido. It is rude, rather than direct like Nohr. She continues to patter, of this and that, knowing that an hour with warm tea on a chilly day is worth any number of stuffy afternoons in closed houses with banked fireplaces and smoke. Despite the rain, the air is clean, and grey skies aren't so bad, with friends.

"I'm sorry," Sakura says, "I didn't hear you properly."  
The curve of her cheek is red, the blush from shame, rather than shyness. Elise puts down her cup and sits up straight. She doesn't know why it happens – maybe she talks too fast, or Sakura's brilliant brain is thinking of something else while she speaks about sewing and dresses and theatre performances, but she can certainly do her best to fix it. Her feet kick up under the empty space beneath her seat, toetips only barely touching the ground.  
“No problem!” Elise says merrily.

As the months fly on to two full years, Elise has found calm, or at least some of it. The business of staves and caring suits her, being able to heal and brighten gloomy days. It's something they've both come to mention and find as common ground now and again. Now that the wars are over, being a healer is less about urgency and far more about learning the skills they'll need for more complicated problems: Repairing slow injuries, solving aches, and easing maladies that don’t just look like a broken limb.

“And... I think we could learn from each other, i-if it would be okay.”  
Sakura's pretty hands curl up at the edge of the table, one folding over the other as she considers anew what she just said out loud. She understands that Elise is safe to talk to, regardless of how much or little she manages of it, which is a point of relief. But she’s always been curious and without the words to voice it. Nohrian scars seem to pucker at the edges, healing fast and hard and thick.  
"If this was a letter, I'm sure this would be easier," she muses, her voice just as soft and pleasant as it has always been. She doesn’t stop in the middle of a sentence as much as she used to, even though there are some days she stutters more than others. Elise smiles, and takes another short sip of something warm, hoping she'll go on.

Sakura does not talk much, but when she does, it is with great feeling. Elise finds it admirable. Thoughts fall from Elise's head into the air freely, but when she can take the time to slow down, to pause, then the sweet lilt of Sakura's voice is more easily heard. 

"I like talking face-to-face," Elise peeps, once she is certain that Sakura has fallen back into comfortable quietness. It is sometimes difficult to gauge if what she has said has gone down well or if she'd made another unavoidable faux pas that Sakura will kindly ignore so as not to cause a scene. But the shy curve of Sakura's mouth rises upward, and it feels like victory.


	2. Chapter 2

Knowing each other for the next four years is to learn how their kingdoms grow. Sakura is fast leaving their babyhood behind, her hair longer; inches and inches toward her shoulders and sweet berry-pink. She wears it free with a red band around her forehead, matching the retainer that sits with Elise’s guard at a distance, sword hanging by her thigh.

Sakura is a quick hand at learning the ways of Nohrian healers. Elise takes her hand in a velvet glove, wishing that it was all that needed to be done that day. But she lifts her arm slowly, drawing the stroke upward with her friend’s arm following the movement. Efficient healers can do the gesture so fast that they can process several wounded soldiers within the time it takes a kettle to boil, but each side has their own theories on how it mends a body. 

Their own retainers stand as dutiful examples and opportunities for learning. When Effie’s grip for an idle challenge sprains Hana’s wrist, Sakura’s nimble fingers scout out the pain and Elise binds it, asking Effie to keep it still. Hana’s face remains impassive, her other palm in Sakura’s hand, hidden beneath the table. 

Elise can't make up her mind about how she wants to carry herself. Her favourite personal attribute is her girlish charm, but it won’t last forever. Depending on the season, her hair is sometimes smoothed to straightness, or curled into ringlets that sit in pinned coils. She’s always admired Camilla’s easy womanhood, wanted to grow into somebody who could be as feared and respected. But Sakura’s softness appeals to Elise, in a way she can’t yet define. 

As Elise sits in the crisp disinfectant wards of Nohr, thinking about the angle of Hana’s wrist in Effie’s firm hand, she finds a fullness of feeling within her heart. She considers it the mark of deep friendship, being able to think so fondly of her friend even when she is so far away.

Sakura compliments every change with a quiet voice, consistent in her own shifts. The red band slips back again, then morphs into crimson combs, then pinches her hair back into a long fish-scale braid with a bow. It feels to Elise as though sometimes, Sakura is building toward something she’s always been determined to be, but she’s waiting for the right time to just be it. But Elise has never found out what it was. They are still too close to war for either of them to visit the other’s capital. 

Sometimes Elise catches up. Near the end of their teens, along with a growth spurt – Elise's voice dips, no longer a squeak (for which she's secretly glad) instead, when she talks, it is a low, sweet counterpoint to Sakura's tuneful sound. Camilla’s endearments don’t fit Elise’s speech, as they never have. But after so many cracks and changes, it comes out smooth and resonant.

“I like your voice,” Sakura says one day, her hair tied back in a long, loose tail, a small circlet gleaming upon her forehead. “I think... If I were your patient, I’d find it soothing.”  
Sakura has always been sweet, but it brings a blush to Elise’s cheeks. They’re celebrating Sakura’s birthday, a week after the fact, and only the way her eyes filled with tears as she smiled made the late present seem like a good idea. Elise could have sent it along to arrive on time during the festivities, but she wanted to see her, to know how she felt.  
“You don’t have to cry,” Elise says, reaching out across the table with a handkerchief; aching somehow, seeing Sakura’s tears, “I’m sorry it was late. I just… Wanted to see you open it, you know.”   
“I didn’t think you’d forgotten,” Sakura reassures her, taking Elise’s hand, “I-I’m sorry, do you mind if I hold your hand?”   
Elise leans, giving Sakura’s hand a gentle squeeze.  
“One day I want to see Hoshido… On your birthday, when all the festivals are happening. I bet it would be so exciting!”  
Sakura smiles, but the gesture is small, and half-hearted.   
“They happen every year… There’s one tonight, but I shan’t go. It’s always so loud, and lots of people are there.”  
Sakura is silent for a minute, and then glances down at her cooling tea on the table.   
“One day... I want to see a festival with you.”


	3. Chapter 3

On Elise’s twenty-first birthday, she and Sakura go for a short walk. The teacups are left behind; their retainers hold hands as a gesture of trust, and follow behind at a steady pace. Sakura reaches for Elise’s hand too, curling trembling fingers around the perlicue of her glove and then fitting there, secure like it is something meant to be.   
Sakura admits she has already seen the sharp edges inside Elise’s mouth from the countless moments they’ve been moved to laughter, and on their way Sakura finally manages to glance up long enough for their eyes to meet. When she points her focus so tightly, the sides of her pupils narrow, and Elise finds something delightful in it.   
She only wishes she knew how to choose her words carefully. 

They stop at the corner edge of a sundry store, and Effie releases Hana’s hand. Hana’s now-free grip fits to the hilt of her sword, her curly head tilting to ascertain what the sudden pause means. 

“Um,” Elise says, “I’m sorry.”  
“W-why?”  
“I just wanted to...” Elise says, “I wanted to give you something.”  
Sakura’s head dips, and Elise gives her hand a squeeze.   
“It’s your birthday,” Sakura points out.  
“We were on the same side, weren’t we?” Elise says, “I have an old medal… It’s the colour of your hair. And my first retainer was so old, y’know, and when she retired, she asked me to give this to somebody I wanted to spend my life with… And I want to know you just as long as that.”

Sakura is silent, holding it. Her gentle hands fold over it, and then open like a shell, slowly, to look at it. The only noise around them is the day to day noise of the boulevard, the shift and grind of armor as Effie adjusts her weight. 

“I won’t be able to display it,” Sakura reminds her, “These things… They mean something.”  
Elise knows it’s a mistake, but she can’t take it back. The curved edges of the metal are sharp in Sakura’s hands.   
“But I’ll treasure it,” Sakura says, “I can keep it safe.”   
The pain in Elise’s chest eases by short degrees, a rush of feeling as Sakura curls her hand around the ribbon and tucks her hand by her side. Her other one raises, palm upward as an offer to hold. If there’s a tremble, Elise can’t see it.   
“Thank you,” she says, “The t-tea will be getting cold now.”   
Elise smiles, not with joy but with relief.


	4. Chapter 4

When Elise finally sees a Hoshidan festival, she’s twenty-two. Her arm links around Sakura’s; the skies have opened up and shed rain like Nohr is determined to visit. The stalls still sell their wares, despite many of the festival-goers taking refuge in the shelter of open-air theatres or the warm covers of fast food stands. It’s not so unusual for the season, and a spot of calm so far away from home. But what she really wants – what she truly delights in – is having Sakura close enough to talk to, and knowing that she’ll be able to see her every day for the whole week. 

The first day had been a good one. After the gardens had been visited, it was time for the banquet, then the celebrations outside. As evening continued, decorated candles and pretty lanterns that ascended to the sky lit up to proclaim princess Sakura’s birthday and mark the beginning of the celebration’s duration.

Now it is early evening, and the drizzle shows no sign of stopping. Elise reaches toward the sky, catching raindrops and feeling at ease. Rain has never been fearsome to her, the gentle thrum of it against window panes or the brisk damp that brings the scent of grass and mud up from a field. But the thunder’s rumble makes Sakura’s fingers tighten on Elise’s arm, an intake of breath audible in how Sakura fights to level it. 

“You don’t have to worry,” Elise says,  
“I know I’m safe,” Sakura admits, “But… It’s hard to tell that to myself sometimes.” 

The thunder grumbles again, and Sakura’s fingernails dig into the delicate silks of Elise’s sleeve, painful enough that it makes Elise glance to check.  
Elise likes celebrations, but she can understand, after all this time. Sakura suits the gentle conversation found at a table, the quiet atmosphere of a hospital in the early hours, when the noise is spare coughs and the sputtering of candles in a draft. They’re under an old wooden porch, waiting out the worst until a time when their clothes won’t be completely soaked through.

“Can I...” Elise starts, and stops, unable to say it. She’s wanted to wrap Sakura up in a hug since she was sixteen years old, and the feeling is paralyzing, heavy on her lungs and heart.  
“I think I’d like it if you held me,” Sakura says, “...If you were going to ask.”  
So Elise turns, and puts her arms around Sakura’s shoulders, pulling her in chest to chest. 

Sakura’s arms bunch up as Elise embraces her, another barrier between them both, but as the rain continues, her arms descend gradually to wrap around Elise’s ribs, locking together again behind her back. 

“I’m glad I get to spend so long with you,” Elise says, as much to defy the thunder’s hold as to comfort her dearest friend, “And I’m glad you’re here, with me. It’s so boring, sometimes, to watch the rain on the windows on my own.”

Thunder crashes again, the sky lit up in a bright flash.

“It’s right over us,” Elise observes, “It’ll be gone soon.”  
“I want it to rain forever,” Sakura says, addressing it softly into the ladylike puff of Elise’s sleeve.  
“That won’t be good for our shoes at all,” Elise says mildly, “We’d need a boat. Maybe even two.”  
“Two,” Sakura confirms, her voice almost level. “A-and one for a house to live in together.”  
Elise laughs, adjusting her grip for a better hold. She’d want that more than she could ever say.  
“I’d like that,” she eventually admits.


	5. Chapter 5

At the end of the week, Sakura and Elise sit down. The silence is warm and amiable, cosy after the morning chill. Elise deals with her embroidery, and Sakura with her stories and letters.  
“This feels like we’re an old couple,” Elise says, trailing off into quietness before her next sentence.

Sakura is the kind of quiet that listens, filling the page in front of her as Elise’s thoughts scatter through the air. When she gets to the end of the page, she sets it aside, picking up another leaf and going about the business of organizing her work space, lifting ink from the tablet and wrinkling her nose as she considers the blank freshness of it.  


“Would you want to live together?” Sakura asks as she writes, and Elise can see the shape of her sentence on the page as she talks, following her speech in a pretty script, “Friends, the rest of our lives together.”  
Elise’s throat tightens up, and for once, she can’t speak.  


“Please,” she manages, and reaches for Sakura’s hand, like a habit.  
Ink smears in a curl across the page, the brush flicking as it overturns – but Sakura doesn’t fight it; she watches Elise fumble around the dots of ink on her fingers.  
“I want to live with you,” Elise admits, “I do, maybe forever. And I’ve loved you, maybe forever, I don’t know when I realized.”  
She swallows, feeling out of place and too soon. Sakura’s careful poise - the slowness as she rises to her feet and dusts off the skirt of her dress with her free hand – is almost too much to bear.  
“And,” Elise starts, “And, if I,”  
“Elise,” Sakura says, reaching up to wipe the tears from Elise’s eyes, “I don’t know if what I feel is love. But,” and she hesitates too, before allowing herself to reach out and step into Elise’s space, waiting there.  
“But?” Elise says, hope still alight.  
“I’d like to think about it,” Sakura says, “Before I just rush in. But being by your side… I know I want to be there.”


End file.
